


Eros

by CrystalizedDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Drunken Confessions, Gen, Harry is a mopey drunk, Kinda, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Secret Valentine, Valentine - Freeform, brief description of wounds, characters are OOC, i don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 16:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13685739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalizedDawn/pseuds/CrystalizedDawn
Summary: “Why won’t he let me help him?” Harry repeats. “Why won’t he let me protect him?”“Pity,” Hermione answers.Harry looks at her with wide eyes, “What?”“He thinks you pity him and are only being nice to him to assuage your own guilt. Mal…Draco doesn’t have any reason to believe you have anything but an ulterior motive.”“Then what do I do?”“You show him someone cares by doing it anonymously,” she replies with a grin. “And I know just how you can do it.”





	1. Drunken Confession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bigblueboxat221b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/gifts).



> This was written as part of the Drarry Valentine Fic Exchange from the fanpage Drarry: fanfiction and fanart. If you are in need of a group to share your love for Drarry I highly recommend this group, they are an amazing and loving bunch of people.  
> The person I was given asked for:  
> *Secret Valentines  
> *Drunken revelations  
> *Friends see the truth- meddle to make it happen
> 
> I can only hope this is does it justice.

“I just don’t understand.” Harry’s drunken mumbles barely audible over the noise of the common room. Ever since Voldemort’s defeat in the Ministry at the end of their fifth year, Hogwarts has been a place of celebration. The parties lasted entire weekends and usually resulted in sluggish stumbling to breakfast on Mondays.

“What don’t you understand?” Hermione’s attempt to ignore the festivities didn’t seem to be going well if the furrow of her brow was anything to go by. She distractedly waved away the leavings of confetti cannons and continues on writing.

“Malfoy,” Harry waves around a half empty bottle of fire whiskey. “He’s been so distant to everyone this year. He ignores everyone who tries to instigate a conversation. Even me” he mumbles through pursed lips.

It’s understandable why Malfoy has cut himself off from everyone. After Harry, the DA, and the Order left, all those still in the Department of Mysteries were immediately arrested. Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange were two of the more noteworthy culprits. Their involvement in the in the first war resulted in swift and merciless trials before being sent to Azkaban. The stress of the trial and loss of her husband proved to be too much for Narcissa and she slowly dwindled into a catatonic state, responding to nothing.

Not even her son.

Left to his own devices, Draco admitted his mother into Saint Mungo’s before going to live with his estranged aunt and uncle, Andromeda and Ted Tonks.

From Harry’s understanding they are some of the fair few to sympathize with Draco. Even Snape, Draco’s own godfather, held nothing but contempt for him after everything was said and done.

That bastard should have been done away with as well. His actions may have been used as a benefit in the battle, but those actions still resulted in the torture and deaths of countless others. Hell, his abuse of authority as a professor should at least have him in probation if not outright fired. Dumbledore may be one of the most powerful wizards of the age, but apparently even he could be as clueless and naïve as Lockhart.

Hermione sets her quill down with an aggravated sigh. “Come on Harry that was uncalled for no matter how true it is.”

Harry looks at Hermione in confusion. Had he said that out loud?

The corner of Hermione’s mouth twitches, “yes, you did.” She holds her hand out to Harry, “now, why don’t you give me the bottle and we can talk about what’s really bothering you?”

Harry gives one last look at the bottle and reluctantly hands it over. He watches as she sets in on a nearby shelf, only to have it immediately picked back up by Ron and taken to Neville, Dean, and Seamus, sitting in the corner of the room.

Hermione swallows a protest with a shake of her head and sites down next to Harry on the couch.

Harry watches the fire dance in the hearth as the silence between them drags on.

“Why doesn’t he want anything to do with me anymore?” he finally blurts out. “I know he blames me for what happened last year. It’s because of me that his life has turned to shit. But where he used to confront me, he now pretends I don’t exist. I’ve tried everything I can think of to at least be a friend to him and he rebuffs me at every turn.” Harry’s shoulders droop as he sinks deep into the soft embrace of the couch cushions. “I just want to get close to him again,” he whimpers. “I miss him.”

“You love him,” she breathes.

Harry nods as he curls himself into the corner of the couch. “I’ve tried sitting with him in the library when he’s studying or working on assignments. If he doesn’t leave as soon as I sit down, he usually storms off the minute I ask him a question.” Harry feels his cheeks heat up, “I even asked him to Hogsmeade after class and he just walked on by as if I was invisible.”

“Harry-”

“Did you know he was attacked?” Harry rushes to say. “It was the day a bludger knocked me out during quidditch practice. As I was getting ready to leave that night, Pansy and Blaise burst through the doors screaming for help. Draco was limp between them.”

Hermione watched as Harry’s gaze became unfocused, lost on the haze of memory.

“There was so much blood, Hermione,” he whimpered, “his chest and arms were riddled with gashes so deep I swear I could see bone. And his leg…his leg was almost separated from his hip. Pomphrey pushed me out the door in her frantic haste to aid him.

“He had been attacked as he was leaving Hosgmeade and almost spliced himself in his panic to get away.” Tears cascaded down Harry’s cheeks. “No one stopped to help. Not when he was being attacked.  Not when his two best friends rushed to get him to Madame Pomphrey. Not one person.

“Why won’t he let me help him?” Harry repeats. “Why won’t he let me protect him?”

“Pity,” Hermione answers.

Harry looks at her with wide eyes, “What?”

“He thinks you pity him and are only being nice to him to assuage your own guilt. Mal…Draco doesn’t have any reason to believe you have anything but an ulterior motive.”

“Then what do I do?”

“You show him someone cares by doing it anonymously,” she replies with a grin. “And I know just how you can do it.”


	2. The Plan

Sunday morning as they were eating breakfast, Hermione told Harry her idea.

“Valentine’s” Harry’s brows furrow. “Be a secret valentine? How exactly is that going to work? He’s distrustful of people he’s known for years, and yet you expect him to have no problems accepting gifts from an unknown source? I thought you were supposed to be the brightest witch in our year” he groused.

“Because you’ve forgotten one thing about Draco,” she responds, pointedly ignoring the last bit of his complaining.

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” Harry challenges as he pushes the food around on his plate.

Hermione’s eyes twinkle as she leans forward. “His curiosity. He may be suspicious about the gifts, but his need to know the who and the why of his admirer with drive him to accept them. After all, curiosity killed the cat…”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” he finishes, eyes fixated on a certain blonde at the Slytherin table. “Okay let’s do it. What do I have to lose?”


	3. The Gifts

Draco has an elbow sitting on the table, his hand cradling the corresponding cheek. Where once bruised circles encompassed his grey eyes and cheek bones protruded from gaunt skin, there is now a glow and healthy flush. A drastic change from who he was in the past.

His life had never been a breeze despite what the populace thought, but the beginning of this year had been especially unkind. Before Lucius was arrested, Draco’s father was a master of deceit with an air of superiority even Voldemort couldn’t match. Lucius may have expected and demanded perfection from everyone he associated with but he expected even more from his own wife and son.

Narcissa and Draco were little more than dolls for him to dress up and parade around as prized possessions. If one hair was out of place it was forced back into alignment without any regard to the others comfort. Draco learned quickly that any type of complaint or resistance to his father’s standards ended with a backhand with jewelry adorned fingers or a beating with his infamous cane.

Narcissa, beaten down in every way possible by her husband, was little more than the doll Lucius so desired. She would spend hours in front of her vanity mirror perfecting and redoing her makeup or sculpting away every perceived imperfection. At times Draco believed he saw more pins that actual hair atop his mother’s head.

Lucius Malfoy was a monster, but he was a monster they knew. The loss of his demanding stability left the two of them adrift with nothing to hold them down. Little by little their world was taken from them as ministry employees seized what they could as evidence against the trial or were sold as compensation for those wronged by Lucius’s deeds.

So used to being under her husband’s weighted scrutiny, Narcissa was left with nothing to call her own and silently slipped away from her reality.

The only things Draco was able to keep in the end were his school supplies. School was the only constant in his chaotic life; it had routine, a set list of demands and expectations. Ones he was desperately trying to adhere to but people kept trying to derail him.

No one more so than his secret admirer.

He could have easily ignored them, but he couldn’t deny that the gifts themselves had become a part of his routine. One he had started to look forward to, in spite of himself.

It had all started with a simple letter and a single red rose. His admirer desired to spend the week sending Draco daily gifts for no reason other than to show Draco, he was loved.

The first gift was an assortment of candy from Honeydukes and a cinnamon roll with and apple and rose flavored icing. A note had been attached expressing concern about his health. His admirer, or Eros as Draco had come to call them, admitted that while his gift wasn’t the most nourishing it would hopefully be something Draco would actually eat. Based on the amount of sugar quills and chocolate treats, Draco knew Eros was right; the sweets wouldn’t last long.

On Tuesday, he received what appeared to be a simple lion pendent with emerald eyes. It was the first piece of finery Draco had to come to possess and be able to call his own. After checking if for anything harmful, he eagerly put it on and hadn’t taken it off since.

While walking to the Great Hall one that evening, Draco realized the necklace wasn’t so simple after all. Upon hearing a shouted curse, he had quickly turned around to see it hurtling towards him. Only it never hit; it bounced off and as he stared in shock, the lion’s eyes started to glow before opening its maw and releasing a thunderous roar.

When the sound of pounding footfalls approached, the culprit tried to run off. They didn’t get far before they were stopped with a body bind and fell to the floor. Looking to where the second spell came from, Draco saw Harry with his wand pointed at the still form of Cormac McLaggen.

Draco still kept to himself for the most part after that, but it was no longer a discomfort to have Harry near him.

His third set of gifts consisted of an iridescent quill that never ran out of ink and several books on magical medicines and healing. Eros had admitted in a note to having help from one of Draco’s friends for the latter part of the gift.  As Pansy was the only one Draco had talked to about his desire to be a mediwizard, he knew she was aware of whom Eros is but no matter how he tried, she refused to give up his identity.

During one of his and Harry’s study sessions, Draco confessed to being intrigued by Eros and how he wished he could at the very least thank him if not get to know him better after the school week was done.

Harry himself wondered aloud whether or not Eros could be someone Draco already knew, based on how personal the gifts seemed to be.

“Maybe,” Draco had sighed, “but I can’t wait to find out.”

The fourth set of gifts included a new set of dragon-hide gloves and a white cloak. The cloak, Eros said, could adapt to the wearer’s needs; if it was cold out a heating charm would activate in intervals so as to keep the occupant comfortable. On the other hand if it was hot, the fabric would become more breathable.

The final gift is Draco’s favorite. A small plush dragon curled around a heart with a personal message saying, “You’ve horded my heart for a while, do you mind if I Slytherin to yours?” It was cringe-worthy, corny, childish, and absolutely perfect. To have someone willing to let their self be seen as anything but straight laced and proper, stole his heart completely. The message also said that should Draco want to meet him, he would be at the Three Broomsticks from noon to three on Saturday wearing a light pink shirt with a silver tie.

Draco arrived at The Three Broomsticks early and had taken to watching the door eagerly for Eros. When he sees Harry walk through the door in the exact clothes Eros described, Draco can’t stop but beam as his new take on life begins.


End file.
